Reflections of Reality
by Knight Ranger
Summary: The Hellmouth goes transdimensional when an unconventional Willow wakes up in a skewed reflection of her own world.
1. Turning the Mirror

**#1: Turning the Mirror**

A high-pitched noise drills through Willow's head, shocking her out of a peaceful slumber. Flinging an arm over to her bedside table, she frantically gropes for the snooze button, growling to herself as she fails to locate it. Reluctantly cracking her eyes open, she scans the table for the offending item and puts a stop to the incessant shrill with a sharp bang of her fist. She pulls herself up, blinking the excess sleep out of her eyes. Mornings are as evil as any vampire.

It takes a moment in the peace of silence for the sight to register, but when it does she furrows her brow curiously at the small analog alarm clock staring back at her. Who put that there? Then turning her head, her eyes widen as she takes in her surroundings. Jumping out of bed as if it were on fire, she paces around the room, taking in the decor and furnishings but finding nothing familiar at all. Where is she? This _isn't_ her room. She's certain of that for the next ten seconds, until she stops in front of the french doors. Looking outside, she recognises the scene before her. The same scene that greets her every morning in fact. This doesn't make any sense. Whipping around, she examines the room again, a little more carefully this time. Okay, the doors are in the right place... the shape...

A chill runs through her as she realises this is her room. It just hadn't seemed like it because everything else is different. She steps over to the computer desk, touching the VDU like it's an alien object. _Okay Willow, think! What the hell is going on?_

Hell! Huh, well there's her answer. Then again furniture transmogrification is pretty tame for ol' Boca Del Infierno. Forcing herself to calm, she scans the room for a phone, hoping she still has one. Spying it on the bedside table, she rushes over and taps in a number from memory, sitting on the edge of the bed as she waits for the pick-up.

"The cellphone you have dialled is unavailable," a recorded monotone drones. Willow tenses. Hitting the cut button, she dials again but gets the same response. _Something's wrong, he never turns it off. _She places the receiver back down into its cradle and absently brushes her hair out of her eyes with a hand. She needs to find him right now! Biting her lip, she stands up again and moves over to the wardrobe, standing against the opposite wall her own used to be on. Pulling the door open, she reaches for a shirt, only to pause in bewilderment as she examines its contents. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a mirror on the inside of the door. A strange kind of intuition tells her not to look into it, but she pushes the feeling aside. This can't get any weirder.

As she slowly tilts the mirror towards herself though, she realises it can.


	2. Reconnaissance

**#2: Reconnaissance**

Willow has run through every scenario she can think of by the time she approaches Sunnydale High School and one keeps coming back to her. Something she's seen in old sci-fi shows, but has never actually entertained as possible, even living where she does. There could have been reasonable explanations for her altered furniture and strange clothes, but to see such a change in herself?

Finding something even passable to wear had been a chore. The blue woolen thing and knee-length black skirt she has on now at least hadn't blinded her with their garishness like the rest of the ill-matched wardrobe, but she feels awkward in them as she rushes into school. How long has it been since she wore a skirt anyway?

The corridors are almost empty as she makes her way to the library, pushing open both doors when she arrives. Whatever or whoever is responsible for all this is going to get the ass-kicking of the century. "Wes, we've got a problem. I..." She trails off though as she sees no-one there. "Wes?" she calls. There's no answer. With growing suspicion, she steps over to the office and after a slight tap of the knuckles opens the door, hoping that she's wrong. "Wes?"

Willow lets her eyes scan over the room and blinks once before shutting the door again. The office is another point in favour of her pet theory, but this is seriously starting to creep her out now. How far does this go? How much has been affected? Her train of thought is interrupted as the library doors swing inwards again to reveal a tweed wearing stranger carrying a pile of books.

"Hello Willow," the stranger greets her. "I wasn't expecting you so early. There's nothing wrong I hope?"

"No! I was just looking for someone," she answers cagily.

"Ah! Well, Buffy hasn't arrived yet. I expect she'll burst in here about five minutes before class as usual," the man replies with a small smile as he places the books down on the centre table.

_Buffy? Who's Buffy when she's at home? _Willow is blank for a moment before deciding to play along. Sounds like he thinks this Buffy is a friend of hers. "Yeah, of course," she agrees, forcing a smile of her own onto her face. "Thanks for the 411. I guess I'll be back later."

"Oh, yes alright. Have a good morning, Willow."

Willow nods at him as she quickly leaves the library. This is insane, where is Wes? _He has to be here... someone has to be here goddamnit!_ She gains pace as she walks the corridors, a look of intense determination on her face.

* * *

Watching the students as they trickle into school, Willow considers her dilemma. Some faces she recognises, but others are a total mystery. That doesn't mean anything of course. Who can claim to know everyone who comes here? Any changes in the people she does recognise... are they really changes at all? She doesn't know anyone well enough to tell. At least no-one who's passed her so far.

Then she sees one person who can give her an answer, one way or the other. Nonchalantly, she hurries over to join him as he walks up the steps and inside the building. "Hey Johnny, how's things?"

Jonathan blinks in surprise. A girl... talking to him voluntarily? Granted it's only Willow, but he can still count the number of conversations he's had with her on one hand. "Um, f-fine," he stutters, losing and desperately trying to regain his composure in a matter of seconds.

Willow takes in his clothes with growing concern. The stripey t-shirt isn't typical of his usual style. Not that anyone would say he has a style, but still. "Notice anything different this morning?" she asks him. _Please say yes_.

_Other than this?_ Jonathan looks around himself though to see if anything leaps out at him. Well not literally leaps out, but... you know. "Er..." he struggles, trying to find something. "Harmony's got highlights in her hair?"

It isn't what Willow had in mind, and the boy is just way too nervous. "C'mon Johnny, I'm serious. You didn't see anything strange when you woke up?"

"No, I-"

"Oh isn't it sweet. The two geekiest people in school have finally found each other," comes a haughty voice from behind them. "Maybe you can get together and have the stork bring you lots of little geeky babies with glasses and pocket calculators."

_And here I thought this morning couldn't get any worse. What was I thinking?_ Irritated at the interruption, Willow turns round. Gwen stands in front of her with a look of mock rapture on her face, a couple of her friends sniggering behind her. _Okay, if they want to play... no problem_. She glances briefly at the two hangers-on. "You never told her?" she asks with a mixture of amusement and feigned disbelief, before looking back to the cheerleader. "I hate to break it to you, Gwen, but the stork is a myth. You see there's this thing called sex. How it works is-"

"Hey, I know what sex is," Gwen cuts-in indignantly.

"Are you sure?" Willow innocently continues. "Cause y'know, there's a whole line of guys back there," she thumbs behind her to a few members of the football team who have just starting paying attention to this exchange, "who'd be only too willing to help you learn. Oh wait!" She clicks her fingers. "They already have."

"What are you insinuating?" Gwen asks, putting her hands on her hips. She isn't pleased at the way this is going.

Willow smirks. "C'mon, Gwen, I know you haven't exactly got brain one in that huge melon on top of your neck, but even you should be able to work that out."

The two girls start giggling again, this time though at their supposed friend. "Shut up!" she orders them, embarrassed. "You know what you are, don't you," she starts to counter, turning back to Willow.

"No, what? And try to hurry it up this time, Gwen. Last time you tried to improvise an insult, I was still waiting for it the following week."

The blonde opens her mouth, but is so rattled by Willow's unexpected rally that she literally can't think of any comeback.

Willow shakes her head slightly. "There there!" she pats her shoulder sympathetically. "Keep practicing, it'll come."

"God, what a loser!" Gwen pathetically replies as she beats a hasty retreat, followed by the giggle sisters.

"We should do this again sometime," Willow calls cheerfully after her. "Call me!"

The cheerleader scoots out of sight, her face flushed so red you'd think it was a traffic light. The students who have witnessed the exchange are either laughing at her plight or looking at Willow in genuine surprise.

"Strange girl," Willow comments mostly to herself, feeling a touch better about things. At least Gwen hasn't changed. She'd thought for a frantic moment there that the whole universe had flipped over. Glancing at the attention the stand-off has attracted, she colours slightly but shrugs her shoulders.

"Oh. My. God!" another girl's voice sounds as she rushes over to Willow with a boy in tow. "Willow, that was incredible. I've never seen Gwen so humiliated. How did you do it?"

_The airheads are coming out of the woodwork today._ Willow glances at the new blonde skeptically. "I opened my mouth and words came out," she dismisses as she looks around trying to locate Johnny. He must have made like Houdini when Gwen started up. _Damnit!_

"Way to go Wills," the boy says, smiling broadly. "I never thought you had it in you."

"They even beat Xander's Zingers," the blonde grins.

"Well I wouldn't go that far," the boy replies.

"Whatcha looking for?" the blonde asks as Willow distractedly wanders away.

"Someplace I can think straight without you two twittering in my ear would be nice," Willow snarks frustratedly.

That pulls the blonde up short. "Wha? I'm... sorry Wills, I..."

"It's alright, Buff. She's just practicing for when Queen C comes a-callin'," the boy reassures her. "Right Wills?"

Willow is about to fire off another retort when she connects the name. Buff... Buffy? Is this the girl tweed-guy had referred to back in the library? The girl he thought she must be looking for? Maybe she can get some answers from her. Johnny looked like a deer caught in headlights and Wes... Well, it's looking increasingly likely that she isn't going to find her friends anytime soon.

"Are you okay?" the boy asks, starting to look concerned.

She smiles at the people who think they know her. "Sure. Just practicing like you said," she answers, not knowing his name.

"Okay." Buffy doesn't look totally convinced, but seems to accept the explanation for now. "Queen C will have to wait for a while though. I've got to report in to Giles before class." She gestures for the others to come along.

The boy gives her a strange look, but at Buffy's proclamation he turns his attention to her. "What was the score last night?"

Buffy adopts a self-satisfied smile. "Slayer touched down twice and the crowd went wild."

"The Evil Undead are having a bad season," the boy smiles back.

Willow nearly freezes to the spot. _Slayer? Evil undead? _Those aren't everyday words. She stares intently at Buffy as she follows them back to the library. She can't be... can she?


	3. Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law

**Author's Note**  
Thanks for the reviews. This is my first go at a Buffy fanfic (although I have roleplayed in the genre before), so I was hoping people wouldn't think it was terrible. _MM4Ever_: I said in the synopsis "Willow wakes up in a skewed reflection of her own world". I never said it was our Willow ;-)

* * *

**#3: Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law**

Willow stands with her arms crossed, listening as Buffy desperately tries to get away with giving the edited highlights of her patrol the previous night. The librarian though, a stickler for detail, is insisting on the director's cut with deleted scenes. This is beyond weird. Same game, different players. There's no doubt now that she's stuck on some kind of alternate world, a parallel dimension, whatever you want to call it. But how and why?

Well she can guess the how. The Hellmouth! That damn thing has the monopoly on weird shit around here, it's a fair bet that it's involved. The why though is going to be hard, unless there is no why. No motive, no plan, just a big freaky accident that wasn't supposed to happen? Yeah, that'd be right.

The bell rings for first period just as Buffy finishes her report. She looks as if she's never been so glad to hear that bell before in her life. "Let's go fill our heads with learning," she says brightly.

"And then empty them right back out again," the boy Willow now knows as Xander quips as he follows her. He looks back at Willow as they get to the doors. "Are you coming with?"

Willow has no intention of going through the motions of class, not with this hanging over her. "I've just got to ask Giles something," she tells him, using the name the others were using for the librarian. Although it's a bit odd if you ask her. She wouldn't be too happy if her friends started calling her Rosenberg all the time.

Xander looks pensive for a moment, as if he wants to say something important, but then just shrugs. "Okay, see you this afternoon?" he asks, giving her a smile.

Willow nods absently.

"Bye Wills," Buffy says before disappearing through the doors with him.

The librarian turns his head to look at Willow and smiles. "Well Willow, how can I help you?"

"How much do you know about opening dimensional portals?" she states, getting right to the point.

Giles looks blankly at her for a second, then furrows his brow. "Dimensional... portals?" he repeats. Willow suddenly has his attention. He'd thought she was being quieter than usual through Buffy's report. Usually she helps expedite matters. He listens as she launches into her explanation, clarifying exactly what's happened to her since waking up this morning. After she finishes, Giles almost collapses into the closest chair. "Good lord!" he exclaims, an expression of worry on his paling face.

"Yeah, do that for a couple of hours and you'll be roughly where I am now. Although I'm hoping we can skip the brainfreeze and go straight to the hocus-pocus," Willow quips, sounding impatiently sarcastic. She can't help that right now though. "There's a spell that can get me back, right?"

"Willow, opening a gateway between dimensions is quite high magic. Even assuming I found the correct spell to use in my books, I wouldn't know where to open it to. Besides, if I'm understanding what you've told me correctly, you didn't make a physical transference."

Willow is getting a bad feeling about this. "What do you mean?"

"Well from your distress over your hair, I assume you wear it in a different style, yes?"

"Yeah," she agrees. "It's shorter and more layered." She picks up some of her long hair and lets the strands fall through her fingers. "This is a mess." It was the first thing she'd seen in the mirror that had started cluing her in.

"Then that means this isn't your body," Giles tells her with gravitas. This is precisely why he's so worried. "Whatever caused this dimensional transference only sent your mind here. You're in essence a parasitic entity walking around in a stolen body."

_Stolen?_ Willow stares at him. "What, you actually think I did this?" She's annoyed now and getting more so by the second. How dare this second rate bookworm call her a bodysnatcher. "If anyone's been stolen round here, it's me. I was happy where I was. Why the hell do you think I'm trying to get back?"

"Of course," Giles says quickly, trying to placate her. "But you have to understand, your mere presence here has grave implications. If you're currently occupying our Willow's body, where is our Willow?"

She hadn't thought of that. It makes sense, but still... "Okay, I'm not unsympathetic, but that's not my problem. And I'm not going to be made to feel guilty for something I had nothing to do with."

Giles sighs. "I'm sorry. My intention wasn't to apportion blame. This is... a little hard to take in. And I'm concerned for the safety of our Willow. She's very dear to all of us, I'd hate for her to become a casualty of this war."

Willow feels her indignation fade as she sees genuine sadness on his face. "Look, there's no reason to think that your Willow won't pop back in as soon as I'm back where I belong," she tries to reassure the librarian as she perches herself on the edge of the main table. "You just need to get me there."

"I'll... I'll do all that I can," Giles says, flustered. "But I don't know if it's possible."

Her heart sinks. "So basically I'm up shit creek without a paddle," she mutters despondently. "Figures!"

"Willow!" Giles admonishes, unused to hearing such words coming from the quiet hacker.

"What?"

"There's no need to swear."

Willow glances up and rolls her eyes at his expression. "Yeah, considering the situation, I think I'm entitled to a few 'colourful metaphors'."

"Well... at least try not to use them in the presence of an adult," Giles says lamely as he takes off his glasses and starts cleaning them.

Willow contemplates the man sitting before her. "Wes told us he wasn't a typical Watcher. I'm starting to see what he meant."

"Is this 'Wes' very different from myself then?" Giles asks, becoming curious as to what sort of world has shaped this version of his charge's best friend. She's certainly more... feisty than the Willow they know.

She smiles slightly to herself, despite her troubled mood. "He's like the missing member of the Lone Gunmen. Only better looking."

Giles raises an eyebrow. "The who?"

"What about them?"

Giles blinks at the non-sequitur. "What?"

Willow bites her lip, stifling mild amusement. "Sorry, just messin' with your head." She sobers up at his expression. "You have heard of The Who, right?"

"Oh!" Giles pauses. "The band?"

She twists her face. "How old are you?"

Giles clears his throat. "Old enough." This Willow is reminding him of - god forbid - Cordelia Chase of all people. They both seem to say exactly what is on their minds without any indication of having heard of a thing called tact... or decorum.

Willow shrugs as she jumps off the table. "Anyway, hadn't you better start checking your spellbooks or whatever it is you plan to look at? The sooner you get rid of me, the sooner you get your Willow back." And if that isn't encouragement, nothing is. It spurs him into action at any rate.

"Yes, of course," he replies, getting out of his seat. "It may take some time though. You're free to um... wait if-"

Willow holds up a hand. "There's stuff I can be doing. I'll check back later."

Giles nods and disappears into the stacks. Willow in turn leaves the library, fingering her hair again thoughtfully. After making sure that there are no staff trawling the corridors to catch her, she slips away from school grounds and makes her way back home.


	4. File Under Non Fiction

**Author's Note**  
_Harry_: An image change was in mind, but writing about shopping is about as interesting as doing it, so you'll probably just see the end result. _WhiteWolf_: Fair enough. No-one's likable by everyone. I designed this Willow to contrast from the show one, at least the one we saw in the early seasons. _LotRseer_: Thanks. And yes, the other Scoobies find out in this chapter.

* * *

**#4: File Under Non Fiction**

Willow had been in too much of a hurry to check out the rest of the house before she left. Now she examines each room more carefully. The furnishings are more modern and utilitarian than what she's used to, but that isn't the part that's disturbing her. It's just too tidy. Way too tidy! Every surface is spotless, every item in its place, no clutter. Feeling uncomfortable in this 'showhouse', she returns to her double's bedroom. As different as it is, at least there's evidence that someone actually lives in it.

Seeing the assortment of clothes she'd casually thrown on the bed that morning when searching for something to wear, Willow sets about putting them away again, ruminating as she does so over her obvious image problem. The girl might as well have an archery target pinned to her. Then again she isn't exactly in a position to comment. They aren't her style, but if this Willow is comfortable in them, who is she to pass judgement? Still, it's more proof of her growing suspicion regarding the girl that she's temporarily displaced.

She's attracted to the bookshelves, but a quick scan reveals nothing to her taste. A few annotated classics probably from Lit class, back issues of Scientific American, a whole bunch of tech and programming manuals. Obviously computers are a large part of her life. She also finds a couple of Harlequin paperbacks hidden behind the manuals. Shrugging, she explores the rest of the room, but there isn't that much to look at. Old plush toys, various trinkets and paraphernalia that only her double would recognise the meaning of, art prints on the wall, some kind of crazy mobile of geometric shapes. She picks up the microscope and briefly peers through the lens before putting it back where she found it. Seems to be a working model. Stopping in front of the fish tank, she watches the tropical fish swimming around for a few seconds. She'd had a goldfish when she was younger, but they aren't the most inspiring of pets. Some photos are dotted around. It's weird seeing her face looking out at her from shots her memory can't match up. All in all there isn't much to connect this Willow with her own life. The only thing that might half fit in her own room is the red lava lamp on the dresser.

It's all adding up though. The clothes, the computer and science stuff, the stunned reactions of Gwen and Buffy when she asserted herself, not to mention the hints she picked up in her discussion with Mr Giles. Willow thinks about her best friend, the downward cast of her eyes as the taunts and ridicule of the so-called Elite sink into her mind, making her believe that she's nothing. And how many times has she had to intervene before the lashings became more than verbal? Her life here uncomfortably seems to fit into the same mould.

That settles it in her mind. She doesn't know how bad it is on this world, but before she gets her ticket home, she's going to make sure her twin doesn't have to live with that anymore. Quarter of an hour later, after practically ransacking the room, Willow eventually uncovers a stash of money obviously being saved up for something. It isn't an enormous amount, but it'll probably be enough for what she has planned next.

* * *

"I'm thinking about asking Giles to investigate Harman. Anyone that sadistic has to have demon blood in them somewhere," Buffy complains as she and Xander both trudge down a corridor. After having a surprise history test sprung on them last period, neither are in a great mood.

"Any chance we can prove he's related to Snyder? Then we can take out both of them," Xander says. He's convinced his carefully cultivated D average is going to be blown apart by a big fat F.

"Well... he is quite short," Buffy considers.

"Sounds good enough for me," Xander replies, quirking his mouth up a little as they enter the library. "Hey G-Man!"

Giles is surrounded by books. In fact it looks like half the library has been pulled off the shelves by a whirling dervish and scattered all around him. He stares intently at one volume, showing no sign of having seen or heard their entrance.

Buffy walks over to him. "Earth to Giles!"

Giles jumps. "B-Buffy. Um... shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's three o clock, Giles, school's over."

"Three o clock?" Giles repeats in disbelief as he checks his watch. He breathes out. "I hadn't realised I'd been researching so long." His stomach chooses that moment to sound its agreement.

"How long is long?" Xander asks.

"Well... since you left this morning."

"Ouch!" Buffy exclaims. "No wonder you're making Hellmouthy sounds."

"I've got a twinkie if you want it," Xander offers with a smile, pulling one out of his pocket. "It's a bit on the flat side, but it's all yours."

Giles looks at it. "The worrying thing is that I'm tempted. Definitely time for a break." He gets up a little stiffly and moves into his office. The clattering and rustling means only one thing. Tea and biscuits.

Buffy idly glances at the open pages and frowns as she reads. "Giles! What's a Jack... Jackal Iron Gate," she calls, struggling with the pronunciation.

"Jaquilerone Gate," Giles corrects, moving to the office doorway. "Um... theoretically it can er, open a rift in space, leading to other dimensions."

Buffy doesn't like the sound of it. "Hell dimensions?"

"Not all dimensions are necessarily... hellish ones. Ours isn't... well, mostly isn't."

"Giles, you're wigging me out here with all the jumpiness," Buffy tells him, knowing that something is up. Probably something bad. "What's wrong? Why would you need to open one of these gate things anyway?"

Fortunately the whistle on the kettle provides Giles with an excuse to avoid the question for a few more moments while he pours his tea. How is he going to tell them what has happened to Willow... their Willow, when he doesn't even know himself? He knows about parallel dimensions, but divergent quantum realities while sounding similar are actually very different beasts. Earlier in the day he had found a spell which may have helped. However a personal item from that reality was needed as an anchor for the spell and as only her mind has made the transfer, there's nothing physical to use.

And that little fact led him to the most mystifying part of this phenomenon. While physical travel between dimensions is possible, this kind of mental possession is something entirely new. It's possible that Willow is still in there, subdued by the more dominant personality of her double. Alternatively her consciousness may have been shunted to another plane. But if that is true, it will require someone far more well-versed in the arts than himself to reintegrate her.

"Giles!" comes Buffy's voice, pulling his thoughts back to the here and now. Cup and saucer in hand, Giles leaves his office and sees the demand in his Slayer's face. Putting his tea down on the table, he takes a breath and starts to tell her and Xander everything he knows.

* * *

Willow casually steps back into the school library just before five-thirty, finding the librarian alone. "Mr Giles," she acknowledges, seeing him studiously making notes from a large volume.

"Oh, er, hello..." Giles turns his head to face her, "Willow," he finishes after a pause, clearly surprised by what he sees. The change in her appearance is quite dramatic.

"I'm not really into floral skirts or fluffy pink jumpers," she explains, answering the unspoken question as she approaches the table.

"Well, quite!" Giles replies, his eyes moving back to the text in front of him before he can possibly be accused of staring. Her attire is certainly... different.

"I know it's probably too soon to be asking, but any luck?" Willow scans the spines of some of the books piled next to him. The bomb site that Buffy and Xander encountered has more or less been organised into specific groupings.

"I have found some passages which deal with divergent quantum realities, but I'm afraid they're all theory and unfortunately don't describe what we're experiencing," Giles tells her, disappointed with his lack of success.

Willow picks up a book from the smallest pile and narrows her eyes slightly at the paragraph she reads. "If this is the kind of thing you're looking at, I'm not surprised." Giles realises what she's looking at and in alarm tries to snatch it back. Willow's reflexes are fast however, pulling the book out of his reach. "A mind under this enchantment will be unable to distinguish fact from fiction," she reads out loud. "The product of the subject's imagination can be mistaken for memories of actual events." She looks up at the Watcher, annoyed with him all over again. "Nice diagnosis, Doctor Giles. So you think I'm crazy huh? Or that I'm just 'a product' of your Willow's imagination?"

"You have to understand that your story is rather hard to digest without some other form of proof," Giles tells her, although he looks embarrassed as he does so. Coming across that volume half an hour ago, he had seized upon a chance to prove that their Willow isn't lost to them.

"What the hell else am I supposed to tell you?" Willow spits out in a moment of utter frustration. "It's the truth!"

"And I shall be researching for that eventuality. But I would be a fool if I didn't entertain every possible reason for this phenomenon," Giles maintains. "If this happened to someone you care about, what would you do?"

Willow reins herself in, but glares at him. "Fine!" she says after a few moments. "But when you've finished chasing windmills, don't come cryin' to me if you find it's too late to do anything else." She turns and stalks off to the exit.

Uncertainty flickers across Giles' face. "Are you suggesting that there may be a deadline involved here?" he calls to her as she reaches the doors.

Willow glances back once before disappearing through them. "You're the Watcher. That's your job to figure out."


	5. Hitting the Curve Ball

**#5: Hitting the Curve Ball**

It's a smoky night in The Bronze, the live band going just a tad overboard with the dry ice machine. Buffy sits at a table, barely listening to them as Xander brings their drinks over. A slight upturn at the corner of her mouth signals her thanks, but she looks depressed. "I still can't believe I didn't notice."

Xander sighs as he sits down. "Don't beat yourself up over it, Buff. I didn't notice anything either."

Buffy rolls her eyes. "C'mon!"

"I didn't."

"Xander, you sooo noticed. You hardly cracked a single joke while I reported to Giles."

"Well... I thought she was a bit quiet. But then I thought she was just embarrassed, y'know? I mean the bitchathon with Gwen did get everyone's attention."

"That's what I mean. I mean how un-Willow was she acting there? I should've known it wasn't her."

"Buffy, being possessed by a double of yourself from a parallel universe is weird even for Sunnydale. I don't think any of us could've predicted that one in the space of fifteen minutes, Giles included," Xander emphasises. "It's like this show I watch, Sliders, where-"

"Gotta say I feel more like Sam Beckett than Quinn Mallory," comes a voice from behind them.

Startled, Buffy looks over her shoulder to see a flame-haired girl leaning over the railing on her arms. Her eyes widen. "W-Willow?"

"Better fix that stutter before you patrol. The witty putdowns kinda lose their effect when they take half the fight to deliver." Willow smiles as she wanders around the fixing, letting her know that she's just kidding on. "Alright if I sit down?" she asks, looking at them both.

"Um... okay," Buffy manages to say as Xander appears to be speechless. Not that she can blame him. It's one thing for Giles to tell them that Willow's double is 'a little different', another to see just how different. Little? Giles has probably qualified for understatement of the year.

Willow takes the seat beside Xander. Back home she wouldn't have stepped foot in The Bronze if you paid her. Cobain's disciples loved it, but as far as she was concerned it was a dingy, miserable pit. After everything she's seen today, she'd hoped this place would surprise her. No such luck!

"So, Buffy and Xander! You two are pretty important to her."

"Who?" Buffy asks tentatively.

"My twin... your Willow," Willow answers as if it's obvious. "There's photos of you guys all around her room."

"Oh!" Buffy replies, getting it. "Well, she's pretty important to us too."

"Yeah," Willow murmurs, a troubled expression crossing her face. She's been trying to think how she'd react if one of her friends were 'taken over' by someone who said they were from a parallel world. As much as she's derided the librarian, she can't really blame him for grasping at straws. "Listen, I'm sorry you had to hear what happened through Mr Giles," she starts, guessing the source of their information. "When I first saw you, I was still trying to figure this all out. I guess I hoped there'd be an easy answer that'd get me home without needing to worry anyone else. Should've known nothing is ever easy here."

"That's okay," Xander tells her, saying his first words since seeing her. "The Hellmouth can make things... pretty confusing."

Willow quirks a grin at him. "Ain't that the truth. Thing just keeps pitching curve balls at us. This one ain't so much a curve ball though as a sidewinder from the dark side of the moon." There's another moment of silence. "I just want you to know that none of this was my choice. I don't know where your Willow is, but I genuinely hope you get her back."

"Thanks," Buffy says uneasily. When she'd heard the bad news, her first reaction was to lash out at this dopplewhatzit wearing her best friend's face, but Xander had been surprisingly strong and talked her around. It isn't this Willow's fault she supposes. "Um... so, that's an interesting outfit you're wearing," she says, trying to be friendly. It's awkward though. She doesn't really know what this girl is like after all.

Willow is dressed from top to toe in black, a denim jacket with gold stitching partially covering a t-shirt with the ubiquitous wolf howling at the full-moon design. A pair of jeans with a silver belt buckle and flat-heeled ankle boots complete the look. She shrugs as she leans back into her seat. "This is just what I'm comfortable in. I've got better gear back home."

"Different hair too," Buffy states. It's a slightly lighter shade of red than usual and cut short to a mid-neck length layered bob with the ends curling forward slightly. "I hadn't thought what you... what our Willow would look like with short hair."

"Kinda suits you," Xander muses, looking lost in thought.

She shifts the topic slightly, uncomfortable with being praised for her looks. "I just hope your Willow isn't too pissed off with it. She must've really liked the long hair to keep it that way for so long. I lopped it off years ago, irritated the hell out of me." Buffy's eyes widen again as she speaks and Xander clears his throat. "What?" Willow asks non-plussed.

"Sorry," Buffy pipes up, "it's just... well... that's the first time we've heard you swear."

Willow raises an eyebrow. "Really? I thought the Watcher was just being all stuffy and repressed when he told me off for that."

"He probably was," Xander agrees with a grin. "But hearing the word 'pissed' out of Willow's mouth? Definite no-no."

"Does it bother you?" Willow asks skeptically.

Xander glances to Buffy who is clearly having a more difficult time with this, then back to Willow. "I think it helps."

"Helps?" Buffy looks to him in surprise. "How?"

Xander's head turns back to her. "Well it helps me think of her and our Wills as two different people. C'mon Buff, how freaky would it be if she was virtually the same?"

Buffy is quiet, but she's starting to see Xander's point, sort of. She's already slipped up a few times tonight by thinking or referring to this Willow as their Willow. If she was the same, it would be even more confusing. "I guess."

Willow smirks. "Glad to be of help. And while I'm on that subject..." She slips a hand in her inside pocket and half pulls out a familiar object, keeping it out the sight of everyone it doesn't concern. She'd found it in her double's room just before the moneybox. "When do we start serving stake to the local nightlife?"

Buffy looks at the weapon. "I can't ask you to patrol with me," she tells her bluntly.

"You're not asking, I'm volunteering." Willow drops the stake back into her pocket. "Besides which I'm fed up with this shit band already. If we don't get out of here soon, I'm gonna start looking around for things to chuck at them. How about it?"

Xander stifles a laugh. "You _are_ different."

Buffy blinks at the pronouncement. "Have you ever staked a vampire?" she asks unsurely.

"Well I'm more used to capping them," Willow replies. "But I know my way around a pointy stick as much as the next hunter. It's pretty much mandatory."

Buffy looks at Xander who seems fine with the idea. She has to admit, she's curious. But... "Okay. But I don't want you putting yourself in danger just to prove it," she warns her. Buffy checks her watch. "The recently deceased should be starting to dig their way out anytime now."

Willow stands up, ready to go. "So let's quit playin' an' start slayin'," she quips with a twinkle in her eyes.


	6. Heat of the Moment

**#6: Heat of the Moment**

Willow walks through the graveyard, her demeanor casual, but her senses on alert. Buffy had been pretty quiet on their way over, but Xander was quite chatty, obviously curious to find out what made her tick. Seems like they have a similar sense of humour, but his taste in music leaves much to be desired.

"You've got to be kidding me," Willow exclaims.

"What?" Xander protests, grinning.

"C'mon! Emmylou Harris? This is a joke, right?"

"Quarter Moon in a Ten Cent Town is one of the most perfect albums ever made," Xander insists.

"I've never even heard of it." Willow looks oddly at him. "Are you just saying that 'cause you're related to her or something?"

Xander seriously considers the question. "Aunt Emmy from Alabama." He shrugs. "Who knows! Dad's never talked about his family much, other than Uncle Rory."

"They disowned him, huh?" Willow jokes.

"Wouldn't be surprised," Xander replies after a beat, still serious.

Her expression falls a little as she sees something pass his eyes. There's a story behind those three words and she's getting a funny feeling that it isn't a good one.

"Do you have to talk so loudly?" Buffy complains, gripping her stake tightly. "You'd wake the dead if they weren't already up and about."

"That's the idea," Willow says, her attention abruptly brought back to the purpose of their impromptu outing. "Make enough sound and we'll attract their attention. Just another trio of dozy teenagers taking a short cut, primed and ready to be munched on thank ya very much." She makes a disgusting slurping noise.

"You sound like Hannibal Lecter with a harelip," Xander mocks her.

"Worked though," she slyly replies as her eyes slant sideways, catching a figure partially obscured by shadow, moving towards them. "Target acquired, approaching from eight o'clock. Don't look."

Xander's demeanor subtly shifts as he becomes all business. "We've got one already?" he whispers, casting his gaze anywhere but behind him.

"When did you spot him?" Buffy queries curiously. The figure is still some distance away.

"About half a minute ago."

"Good eyes," Buffy tells her grudgingly. She'd spotted him at around the same time. "I was going to say something, but you were busy being a 'dozy teenager' so I didn't get the chance."

"You gonna purr all night, little kitty?" she drawls. "Or are you gonna pounce?"

Buffy raises her eyebrows and stares challengingly at her.

"Er... ladies?" Xander cuts in worriedly. "We have company you know."

"I know," Willow says innocently. "Just getting the Slayer in fighting mood."

"It's working!" Buffy says snippily.

Willow just smiles, then turning her head to Xander, starts laughing as if he's just said something hilarious. Her eyes though are incongruously darting across the tombstone and tree lined terrain. She'd done the same during her exchange with Buffy. "Tall, dark and ugly's got a dining companion coming in at ten o'clock," she adds in a low voice. "Don't think they know we've twigged yet. They're looking for the right time to jump us." She stumbles a little. "Damn these laces!" she says out-loud. Going down to one knee, she looks up at Buffy and Xander. "Go on, I'll catch up."

"Are you crazy?" Buffy starts, "we're not-" She's surprised though when Xander grabs her hand and quickly pulls her away, putting a small distance between them and the redhead. So surprised that she almost misses the first vampire coming at them from the trees. She flicks her leg up at the last moment, landing the heel of her shoe right in the vampire's game-face. "Willow!" she shouts. But the warning is redundant.

The second vampire tries to grab Willow as she fiddles with her shoe, but gets an elbow in the gut for his trouble. She springs upwards, using the surprise of her first move to land her second. Willow's knuckles drive up, connecting with the base of the nose and shattering it a split second before the angry, but shellshocked vampire drops to the floor. She lets the stake slip into her hand from up her sleeve and rams it down before the bloodsucker can get his bearings back. It hits home perfectly.

Buffy hurries over, having despatched her adversary moments earlier. But it's not to congratulate Willow. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" she snaps, glaring at her. "That little stunt could have got you killed."

She smirks. "Relax Buffy, I could've taken that one out in my sleep."

"That's so not the point and you know it. I told you not to put yourself in danger," Buffy argues, jabbing at her with a finger. "Don't you realise how deadly vampires are?"

She takes a step back. "C'mon, fledglings are more hunger than common-sense, you know that. They're not hard to put down."

"And what if they weren't _fledglings_? But you didn't think about that, did you." Buffy isn't letting this lie.

"Er, Buffy?" Xander tries to intercede.

"I'm not exactly a beginner at this you know," Willow says, looking genuinely puzzled now. "When I volunteered to come along, I didn't expect to be given the third degree over something trivial."

Buffy moves forward dangerously. "Willow's life isn't trivial, don't you DARE say otherwise. If you're so stupid to get yourself killed, you don't just kill yourself, you kill her too. And I'm NOT GOING TO LET THAT HAPPEN!" She's shouting at her by the end.

"Buff!" Xander tries to move between them, but is firmly blocked by Willow, who gives him a glance to say that she can handle this.

She narrows her eyes at the Slayer. "I don't know how you guys usually operate, but I'm not here to play cheerleader, alright? So put your ego away and let's finish what we came out here for." The words have barely left Willow's mouth when her head jerks sharply right and she feels a stinging on her face.

Xander looks wide-eyed at Buffy. Willow touches her cheek for a moment, then slowly turns her head back to face the Slayer, an unreadable expression on her face.

As the seconds wear by, Buffy starts to feel an inkling of regret for slapping this girl. Even if she isn't her Willow, she's someone's Willow and didn't deserve that. But goddamn it, she'd made her so angry. Slaying vampires isn't the game she obviously treats it as. "Willow, I-" She doesn't get a chance to even attempt an apology though as a fist lands squarely in her face. Buffy staggers back, more from shock than anything else. "You little bitch!" she murmurs in disbelief.

"Buff, Wills, this is crazy!" Fear runs through Xander as he sees Buffy's mood burn to white hot. The last time he saw her this mad was when she was taking a sledgehammer to the Master's bones. Buffy doesn't hear his words though and charges her.

Willow, now in a martial arts stance, counters one... two... three moves, then quickly drops down, sweeping Buffy's legs as she does so. The Slayer falls into an infuriated and somewhat embarrassed heap. Willow shakes her head slightly. "That was pathetic, I've seen more fight in a stick insect. You sure you're the Slayer?"

Hissing, Buffy leaps back to her feet and starts trading moves once again. Willow acquits herself far more than is expected, blocking two blows out of every three and even landing a couple herself. But Buffy's increasing speed and power prove too much in the end and within thirty seconds she's overwhelmed, her back to the ground, the wind forced out of her. Willow sees her closing in and tries to put up a block, but finds the block isn't needed.

"ENOUGH!" Xander shouts in Buffy's ear as he struggles to hold her back in an improvised armlock. "This is Willow for Chrissake's. You're gonna kill her yourself if you don't calm down."

"That _thing_ isn't Willow," Buffy spits through gritted teeth.

"If she dies, our Willow dies too." Xander's reminder is effective enough to suddenly snap Buffy out of her anger.

Willow hesitantly gets back to her feet, breathing heavily as she holds her stomach. "Better! But... how about you save the rest of that... for the vamps, eh?"

Buffy's stake - which she'd been seconds away from using - falls to the earth with a soft thump. She's still staring at Willow, but with utter incomprehension now. As if she's just beamed down from the Millennium Falcon speaking Wookiee. Well, at least Buffy doesn't look like she wants to murder her and bury her under the patio anymore. That's good enough for the moment. Xander releases the Slayer's arms and moves over to Willow with concern. "You're bleeding."

"Huh?" Willow looks non-plussed.

"Your bottom lip," Xander elaborates.

She licks her lip and tastes the bitterness of copper. At least the cut's on the inside of her mouth, it won't show. "If I was a vampire... I think I'd be on a size zero diet," she says, pulling a face. "Had worse. I'll be fine."

Xander looks from girl to girl. This is incredible, she was matching Buffy almost move for move for half the fight. "So, er... speaking of curve balls? That was a hell of a one-eighty you just pitched."

Willow looks blankly at him.

"Y'know, the whole..." Xander starts to wave his arms around in a bad imitation of a Bruce Lee movie.

"Oh!" Willow shrugs. "Karate. No big deal, I took it up when I was a kid. Dad thought I should after... well..." She trails off, her thoughts threatening to encroach on dark places. She takes a few moments to get her breath back properly and gives him a wry half-smile. "Well, you know what this town's like. You've gotta know how to defend yourself."

"Karate, huh? I tried that once. Got floored on the first night by a second-grader with a security blanket, never went back." Xander's usual comedy isn't having it's desired effect though. The atmosphere is tense, as if the gravestones around them aren't unsettling enough on their own. "How far have you got?" he asks, changing tack.

"Nidan." Willow sees Xander's eyes unfocus for a second, then he nods in understanding. She turns her gaze to Buffy, hoping this gets through to her. "Which means when I tell you I can look after myself, I can bloody well look after myself. I'm assuming my demonstration made that crystal. Though I didn't expect you to try and jam one of those things in me, sacred duty an' all that.." Her tone is more exasperated than angry.

Buffy starts to tremble with delayed guilt. "I'm sorry... Oh God, I'm so sorry. I can't believe... I can't believe I almost did that."

Willow exhales loudly, wondering what the hell she's got herself into here. The Slayer looks on the verge of cracking. "Alright, look, why don't we pretend the last five minutes never happened, eh? High pressure situation, shit happens, doesn't mean a thing."

"Gets my vote," Xander says glibly, wishing the last five minutes really hadn't happened.

"But I-"

Willow steps across, flips her stake over in her hand and holds it out to Buffy. "We're a trio of dozy teenagers taking a short cut. Yeah?"

Buffy can't believe she's taking this all in her stride. She's so different from their Willow, so very different. Her fingers hesitantly rest on the stake.

"Oh look" says Willow nonchalantly, "there's a big scary man with pointed teeth."

Buffy smiles slightly, despite the fact her stomach is still quivering. "Oh no! Should we all run and hide?"

"Buff!"

Buffy sees the look on Xander's face and spins around purely on reflex, ramming the stake she'd snatched from Willow's palm into the heart of the undead blood-drinker who had just been about to leap onto her. He explodes into a fine mist.

Willow bends down, picking up the stake that Buffy had dropped earlier. "Maybe we're slightly less dozy than we look," she says as she strolls past.

Buffy realises she's gaping slightly and closes her mouth. "Yeah!"


	7. Shock to the System

**#7: Shock to the System**

"I'm gonna call it a night," Buffy says quietly. After the cemetery, the rest of the patrol had gone without further incident. Unfortunately that had left her to dwell on emotions she didn't want to have to deal with, her mind rerunning _that_ moment over and over. She almost murdered Willow tonight. No matter what she'd done or said, she should never have let that happen. God, if Xander hadn't been there...

"Yeah, I don't think we'll see any more action tonight," Willow agrees, trying to keep up normality as she sees the stricken expression pass the Slayer's features. "Still, three more on the tally. It all adds up."

Buffy looks at her, finding nothing but friendliness in the double of her best friend. _It's like it never happened for her._ In a way it makes her feel even more guilty. She nods once. "Um... I'll walk you and Xander home."

Willow's thoughts return to the house she'd explored this afternoon. Going there wouldn't be her first choice or even her second. What she really wants is to check out Main Street, find out if her hangouts still exist here and maybe lose herself in something loud, forget about the latest mess the Hellmouth has made of her life. What's the alternative? To lie on an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room, staring at the ceiling as its the only damn thing that still looks the same? The only sight that could fool her into thinking that nothing's wrong with the world?

She looks back to the Slayer, imagining how well she'll take to the idea of her going off on her own. "Okay!"

* * *

Willow approaches the front door, having parted from her twin's friends at the driveway. That patrol was harder than it should have been, in more ways than one. She inserts her key in the lock, absently noticing the lighted front window but thinking little of it. Her mind is more focused on how she's going to fit into this alternate life she's fallen into. Xander seems a nice guy, but the Slayer and her Watcher? Maybe they just got off on the wrong foot, this has to have been as much a surprise for them as for herself. She needs to remember that.

Stepping through the open doorway, she swings the door shut and carefully locks it again. A habit. It's superfluous against the uninvited and won't stop a determined demon, but then the creatures that go bump in the night aren't the only evil in the world.

"Is that you, Willow? I thought you were upstairs studying."

Willow instinctively turns her head to the owner of the voice, then finds herself rooted to the spot, her heart almost stopping.

Her father sighs from his seat in the lounge. "I thought we agreed that it would promote positive development for her to socialise with her friends more."

"She shouldn't neglect her studies though, Ira. And I'm not sure I trust that new girl, Bunny. I've been told that she is a bad influence and you know how peer-pressure can adversely affect impressionable young girls." The woman turns back to look at her, a curious expression on her face.

"Willow is sixteen, she's responsible for her own behaviour. Besides which she's always been a sensible girl," Ira affirms. "You know that we can trust her."

The woman sniffs. "I suppose that you're right. Well, straight to bed young lady. It's getting late now and we wouldn't want to hear of you falling asleep in class tomorrow because you did not get adequate rest tonight."

Willow just looks at her, unable to turn any thought process to sound. She merely mouths one silent word, her lips barely moving. "Mom?"

"Was there something you wanted to ask us, Willow?"

Her father's question finally breaks through. Blinking rapidly, she tears her eyes away from the impossible sight. "H-Huh?" she stutters uncharacteristically.

"Was there something you wanted to ask us?" Ira repeats, showing a little concern.

Willow just shakes her head after a moment. Her feet become unglued and she races upstairs, shutting the bedroom door and collapsing to the floor moments later, her heart thudding like a drum. She isn't sure how long she's sat there when she hears whispered voices coming up the stairs. Her parents turning in for the night. The paper-thin crack of light at the bottom of her door disappears, the only illumination now the crescent moon shining through the glass separating her room from the outside world. Standing, she moves towards the light like a moth to a flame and swings open the doors. She hesitates at the threshold, then swallows and steps out onto her balcony, holding the railing and expelling the dead air she feels trapped in her lungs.

As she breathes in the night, deliberately calling on the centering exercise her sensei taught her, her nerves settle to a sensitivity approaching normal. Only then does she dare think about this new revelation. _Mom... she's alive! _An image from childhood nightmares flashes though her mind - the predatory sneer as mom lifted a twisted but still recognisable visage from her father's neck, crimson running from the corner of the mouth. Willow closes her eyes, banishing the memory. The creature had made a reluctant escape when Uncle Jack stepped in the house moments later. The next few hours had been a blur. The ambulance that took dad away, waiting outside his room, the relief when the doctor told them that his blood loss wasn't as bad as first feared. Then the utter confusion as the police department refused to listen to Jack, instead chalking the attack up to a gang member on Angel Dust. The same excuse given the week before when she learned mom had been murdered.

Her initiation into the realm of darkness. Gone in this world. Null and void. No gut-wrenching tears, no waking in the middle of the night screaming her throat raw. Willow lowers her head, suddenly feeling the weight of tonight crashing down on her. She looks back into her twin's room. _Just pretend it's Delia's._

Reluctantly she walks back inside, closing the doors behind her. Tugging the sleeves of her jacket, she pulls it off herself and drapes it over the end of her bed. After taking off her boots and unfastening her belt, she starts to pull at the buttons on her jeans. They quickly slip to the floor where she leaves them. Running a hand through her newly cut hair, Willow pulls back the duvet and slides inside. Still uncomfortable with the strangeness of the room, she turns her eyes to the ceiling and lets her body carry her off into unconsciousness, hoping but somehow doubting that her dreams will be pleasant.


	8. Connections and Resolutions

**#8: Connections and Resolutions**

The bell of a small and deceptively loud alarm-clock serves to drag Willow out of her sleep for the second morning running. Turning it upside down and smacking it off the table finally shuts it up. She stares at the ceiling taking deep breaths, then pulls herself up onto her elbows. Not a dream then. Or a random twenty-four hour glitch in the space-time continuum come to that. Shaking her head slightly, she gets out of bed, her face contorting as her whole body starts to ache.

Examining herself in the shower, she's thankful to find the bruising to her body isn't too bad. She'd blocked most of Buffy's moves, perhaps because the Slayer hadn't expected her to know self-defence. The strikes she did land though had both power and anger behind them. They're going to hurt for a few days, but that's nothing new. After letting the hot water work out the muscle kinks, Willow eventually returns to her room and opens the wardrobe. With her twin's kaleidoscopic fashions pushed to the end of the rail, she looks over her new purchases.

* * *

Given his long and close friendship with Willow, Xander in particular would have been expected to take yesterday's situation badly. But in fact he'd handled it better than any of the others. While he was naturally worried for his Wills, he didn't see her double as any threat. In fact she was pretty cool. She shared his appreciation of the corny side of life and could stand up for herself, not just physically, but verbally too judging by her swift demolition of Gwen Ditchik yesterday. A minor Cordette to be sure, but if his Wills had been confronted by Gwen, there would have been a very different result. She seemed more social and more spontaneous too. Although that spontaneity nearly proved catastrophic when Buffy went and dove off the deep end.

Xander chills as a little as he walks. Not because of the temperature - it's actually quite warm - but in the knowledge of what could have happened if he hadn't intervened. Would he have even had the presence of mind to hold Buffy back if it wasn't for his rather new perspective on things?

It had started on Halloween after they'd all gone home for the night. A sudden rush of images, of experiences not his own. His first impulse had been panic, that Giles hadn't managed to stop that crazy costume-shop owner's spell after all. That whoever he'd been taken over by was staging a new offensive for control. But the flood eased off and over the next few days, he mentally sorted through and pieced together the large jigsaw of thoughts, memories and emotions within himself.

He hadn't been much help during the whole Ford fiasco and feels a little guilty for leaving Willow to basically unmask the vampire wannabe on her own. Distracted as he was though by his internal puzzle, he wouldn't have been much use to her or Buffy anyway. Even his usual banter had been more forced than natural, however he didn't want to give anyone a reason to think something was wrong with him and that was the easiest shield to throw up. After a few days though, he could feel his sense of self coming together again, reconciling what he was with what he'd discovered. The core of his being was still one-hundred percent Xander Harris, but the soldier he'd been for a few hours had left something behind. An imprint of his life.

MORGAN  
DANIEL L.  
4591231  
AB NEG  
NO PREF

The dogtags he never properly looked at before wearing them had provided the identity of his soldier. The memories from Morgan's imprint the rest. Everything from growing up on the dense terraced streets of Dundee during the stark austerity of post-war Britain, through his emigration to the States, marriage, conscription, the insane asylum that was Vietnam, children, the works. If he concentrates, he can pick out whatever he wants with no more trouble than remembering the lyrics of a favourite song. In practical terms, it means he potentially has first hand access to a collected knowledge of small arms training, ordnance, tactics, protocols and much more. Things that he doesn't doubt will come in handy in the future.

That isn't the strangest aspect of his post Halloween experience he's had to get used to though. The essence of Danny Morgan that remains has been offering him new insights on the world and his interactions with it. It's allowing him to understand himself, to recognise parts of himself so well repressed that he's rarely if ever acknowledged their existence. Unfortunately his new found self-analysis has thrown up some uncomfortable facts.

Willow is his best friend, always has and hopefully always will be. However when he reviewed their shared history in the early restless hours of yesterday morning, he realised that their friendship has been more than a little lopsided. Whenever they've spent time together, they've always ended up doing something he wanted to do. If they went to the movies, nine times out of ten it was something he wanted to watch. He's never taken the time to ask what _she_ wants and she's always just gone along with whatever he decided.

Relying on her to get him through classes year after year. Okay, he's not A-grade clever, but he's not completely stupid either. If he'd made any real effort to learn all the things that Willow had patiently explained to him over and over, he could have probably managed an average grade without placing the burden of both their educations on her. But he never considered that.

How many times over the years had she left her balcony doors open at night and a sleeping bag on the floor, offering him a place to rest where there was no danger of being woken up and beaten? How many times had she helped treat his bruises and other wounds? All without her parents ever knowing what goes on in the Harris household. More times than he can ever count. She's always been there for him, to give him whatever support he's needed.

He's taken Willow completely for granted without even realising it.

He'd resolved to try and make up for being such a crappy friend, but then the Hellmouth placed a collect call to Bizarro World and royally screwed that idea into the ground. Which brings him back to this new Willow. An alternate version of his friend, the friend he could have made if history had taken a different path. Or maybe not given that she hadn't recognised him. Freaky things alternate worlds. Thank God he watches sci-fi or this might have _really_ threw him for a loop.

With his book-bag slung over his shoulder, he steps up to the front door and rings the bell. It opens after about half a minute.

"Xander... hey!" Willow didn't anticipate seeing her twin's friend so early.

Xander looks at her and can't help but smile. Her new short hair looks tousled and slightly damp. It's obvious she was in the middle of getting dressed. The black Levi knock-offs are similar to the ones she wore yesterday, but the wolf t-shirt has been replaced with a short-sleeved red cargo shirt only half-buttoned. "Hey!" he echoes. "I was just wondering if you'd like to walk to school with me. I always walk with my Wills, thought I'd make the same offer to you."

"Oh right! Kinda like Delia and me," she replies brightly. "Well, come in. I'm not quite ready yet, but gimme a few minutes and I'm all yours."

_Okay, where did that come from?_ Xander asks himself, surprised as a few errant thoughts pass through his mind in response to the remark. _Jeez, it's just a figure of speech. _Willow closes the door, but before she can turn away, he catches sight of something and any such thoughts are immediately dismissed. "What's that?"

"Huh?"

Xander steps over to her and shifts the fabric off her shoulder slightly, revealing a darkened bruise. Willow colours and steps back, pulling the top half of her shirt together and covering it again. "It's nothing!"

"Buffy, right?" Xander asks rhetorically, his expression hardening. _'Pretend it never happened' she said._ But now faced with the evidence of Buffy's handiwork, he can't pretend.

Willow sighs. "Like I said, I've had worse. Shouldn't have antagonised her, that's all."

"Damnit, that's not the point," he exclaims, angry not at her but at the diminutive blonde he once had a crush on. "When you go out into the field, you shouldn't have to expect one of your own unit to turn on you."

"Nice analogy. You interested in the forces?" Willow queries, trying to change the subject.

"More than I used to be," he responds cryptically. "And nice try, but I'm not going to let this fly. It's time Buffy and I had a talk."

Willow looks surprised. "Xander... look, I appreciate that you're close to your Willow and you seem a nice guy and everything, but you barely know me really. And I'm not gonna be the cause of any trouble for you guys, okay? So just forget about it."

"After last night, Willow, I think I know enough." It wasn't just her new look. There were certain things she'd said, or more accurately had left unsaid. Then the reason she'd given for taking up martial arts? There's something there. You don't get that good that quickly, Ralph Macchio be damned. She has to have started training before finding out about the nightlife, probably some time before. "Why did you learn to fight... really?"

"I had my reasons," she answers, not quite able to meet his gaze. She doesn't want to think about this again. It's too soon.

Xander takes a long and serious look at her, then the realisation hits him. "Someone close to you... died because of those bastards," he starts, digging deep into the dark areas of his psyche for this. "At first it was revenge, but now it's something more. They took your innocence and now you take the fight back to them because you can't let anyone else lose theirs. You can't let someone else die if you can do something however small to prevent it. Because whatever the reasons for not getting involved, however valid they might be, you can't listen to the screams and _not_ get involved."

Willow pales even more than is natural for her. She does meet his eyes this time and is startled to find herself staring into a virtual mirror. Pain, focus, intent!

Being there for a friend, for the adventure, because it makes you someone important. There's lots of reasons for hunting vampires, but only one that really matters. Being there because you have to, because it's right. And Xander knows that just as much as she does. "My mom!" she whispers after a long moment.

Xander just nods in understanding. She doesn't need to elaborate any further. "I'll wait here for you. Have you had breakfast yet?" She shakes her head. "How about Toni's? First period's a free, so we can take our time."

She nods once, not trusting herself to speak.

Xander smiles after her as Willow turns and pads upstairs in her bare feet. His smile then drops. He'd seen the light in the window when they walked her home. Jesus, Mrs R was probably here last night. He tries to imagine how he'd feel. The shock of waking up to a completely different world, having the crap beat out of him by a Slayer he doesn't know, then finding Jesse is alive. He soon feels sick.

Willow is a little subdued when she returns, dragging a comb through her hair. She's now fully dressed, boots on her feet and denim jacket slipped over the shirt, now with only the top button open. They leave the house and slowly walk into town.

Willow gazes around herself, thinking about the places she and the gang regularly haunt back home. "This Sunnydale seems different," she says, making conversation. "I saw a bit of it yesterday when I bought my new outfits. A few of the shops are the same, but not many."

Xander suspected as much. "Do you know Toni's?" he asks. He'd chosen it above anywhere else as it seemed the one place that had the most chance of existing in her Sunnydale. Toni's has been in town forever and a day, handed down through successive generations of the family that started the business off.

"If it's where I'm thinking of. The little cafe over on Vine, Antonia Carella's place?"

Xander nods.

"Then yeah. Johnny and Toni's niece Alyssa dated for a few months back in Junior High. We know Toni quite well actually."

"Johnny?"

"Jonathan, he's one of the gang back home. I saw his twin at school yesterday morning, hoped he might know something."

Xander looks surprised. "Jonathan Levinson?"

Willow looks at him. "He's isn't one of us is he. Is he even a friend?"

Xander shakes his head. "Not really. We tried talking to Jonathan before all this started, but it was hard-going. He's even shyer than you... well, our Willow."

Willow nods, understanding the slip. "Sounds like Delia. We were the original wallflowers back in elementary school, nervous of everyone. No-one wanted to know us, luckily we had each other."

_Not so different from our Wills,_ he muses. "But that changed. You seem a lot more confident now."

Willow shrugs. "I seemed to make friends easier after I took karate classes. It kinda helped bring me out of myself I guess. Delia's not as nervous as she was either, but she's still pretty reserved. I look out for her."

"You've mentioned her a few times. A good friend?"

"The best! We've known each other since we were six. Always been there for each other, no matter how bad it got. If Delia and her parents hadn't been there for me..." She trails off. She still can't tell the whole story.

"I'm glad you had someone," Xander tells her, wondering how he might have handled that situation in Delia's place. "To be honest though, it spooks me that there's a whole world out there where we don't know each other. I wonder where I am there."

"You could be anywhere I suppose," Willow muses. She looks up at him and quirks the corner of her mouth. "Maybe your parents decided to hold off having a kid for a few years and you're actually an eleven year old hyperactive brat who wields a mean slingshot, pelting innocent people with rancid fruit."

Xander smirks. "On behalf of eleven year old me, hey!"

Willow matches his expression, feeling cheered up a little. "Of course if the Xander of my world is anything like the Xander I'm talking to right now, I might just have to look him up."

"Yeah?"

She looks at this guy she's known all of a day, feeling a connection with him. "Yeah! Seems like he could be someone worth knowing."

Xander is touched by the compliment. He just hopes he can live up to it.

* * *

The cafe is moderately busy with the pre-work crowd when they arrive. Picking a window seat, Xander orders himself a cooked breakfast, but Willow is content merely with a cup of plain coffee and a cherry Nutrigrain bar. "Are you sure you don't want something a bit more filling?" he asks as his plate is handed over by the waitress.

"I'm okay," she affirms. "Call it a new resolution."

"Hmm?"

"Something I thought of yesterday," she expands on the statement. "As long as I'm here, I might as well give your Willow a helping hand. As part of that, I'm going to start getting her fit."

Xander furrows his brow as he chews on a sausage. "How do you mean? Wills isn't fat."

"No she isn't," Willow agrees, "but she hasn't got any tone to her either. Taking down that vampire last night was a little more effort than I thought it'd be. It's obvious she isn't conditioned for physical activity, much less fighting. Getting her fit can only help."

He thinks about that. "Y'know you've got a point there. Actually it's something I should probably be doing myself. Given how hard I suck at research, getting myself fit for patrolling is probably my best bet for actually making a difference around here. It'd sure beat being Comic Relief Guy or Chief Donut Fetcher."

Willow frowns. "I'm sure you do more than that, Xander. You knew to pull Buffy away when I gave that first vamp an open invitation. Thanks for that by the way."

He shrugs. "I saw what you were doing. Classic bait and hook routine. As you said the newly undead aren't too clever."

She nods firmly. "Though I thought Buffy would have realised what I was doing."

Xander looks as if he's carefully deciding how to phrase his next sentence. "Well, subtlety isn't really in Buffy's bag of tricks. She's a very... direct girl."

Willow looks mildly concerned, then seems to shake it off. They sit quietly for a while, Xander making sure his breakfast doesn't go to waste while Willow orders a second cup of coffee. "How aren't you the size of a hot-air balloon by now?" she jokes with him as he mops up the last of the brown sauce with a chunk of waffle.

"Fast metabolism," he explains. _That and it might be the only decent meal I get today._ He doesn't voice that thought however.

Willow lightly chews on her lip, wincing a little as she catches the healing cut. "Y'know," she ventures, "if you're serious about getting fit for patrols, I could help."

Maybe she could as well. Between a Nidan and the military's finest basic training embedded in his skull, he should be able to build and follow a regime that'll produce results. "Do you think you'll be here long enough?"

"Well given _Giles_ doesn't even think I'm real yet, I don't think I'm going to be seeing home anytime soon," she says a touch bitterly.

He stares at her incredulously. "Wait! What does he think you are then? Some kind of optical illusion done with lasers?"

Uh-oh! She'd assumed Giles had told them his pet theory. "It's nothing," she dismisses quickly. She can see from his expression though that Xander isn't going to let this go. "Alright, I'm supposed to be some kind of enchanted persona your Willow pulled out of her imagination," she replies hesitantly. "Why anyone would want to imagine my life is beyond me, but that's what he was looking at before I met up with you at the club."

Xander is highly skeptical of that idea. But... maybe there's one way to find out. Given some of his more unconventional attitudes about the chain of command, Danny Morgan had gone through more than his fair share of psych evaluations. He's quiet for a moment, then starts up. "Who's your favourite band?"

Willow looks bemused. "What's that got to do with the price of fish?"

"Humour me for a bit."

She looks curiously at him, then crosses her arms on the table. "Okay. I've got a few, but it you pressed me, I'd have to say Dare."

"Dare?"

"English band. Darren Wharton founded them after Thin Lizzy broke up."

Xander nods, still not really any of the wiser, but at least he's heard of Thin Lizzy. "Favourite actor?"

"Um..."

"Quick as you can."

Willow flounders. "... Michael J Fox."

"Last gig you went to?"

"Counterfire at Area 52."

"What did you think of them?"

"Pretty good for a tribute band. Although the vocalist was a woman and still couldn't get as high as Geddy Lee."

"What present did Delia get you for your Sweet Sixteenth?"

Willow snorts. "The joke one or the real one?"

"Let's try the joke one," Xander says, intrigued.

She rolls her eyes. "A fifty dollar Victoria's Secret gift certificate. She faked it on the computer. Like I would even know what to spend it on."

_Imagination, why do you torment me so?_ "I might have a few ideas."

Willow reddens. "Let's not go there. What's the point of this again?"

Xander stifles a smile. "Bear with me just a little longer."

"Okay," she grumbles.

"What did you have for dinner last Friday?"

Willow looks a little guilty as she picks the small detail out of her mind. "Fried chicken sticks."

"Barbecue sauce?"

"Course!"

Xander smiles again. "Thought you were one of those healthy eaters?"

"Friday's my treat day, so sue me."

Xander pauses for a moment. "NFL or MLB?"

"Neither. EPL all the way."

_EPL?_ "Half full or half empty?"

Willow lifts up her coffee cup. "Half empty. And I think you should fill it up again for this."

_Damn!_ "Gold or silver?"

"Silver."

"DS9 or Babylon 5?"

She actually looks offended. "How's that a fair question?"

"Sorry!" Xander told her, genuinely apologetic for that one.

"So are we finished Twenty Questions yet?" Willow asks slightly impatiently.

"I think we're a few short, but yeah, pretty much," Xander admits. Looks like he's going to be having a chat with Giles too. Busy day.

Willow drains her coffee. "Are you going to let me know what all that was about?"

He quirks a half-smile. "It tells me that you're just as real as I am."

"How?"

"Easy. If you're imaginary, why all the minutia? I could see Willow filling in important details like family and friends, likes and dislikes, etc. But what you had for dinner last Friday? A joke gift on your sixteeth birthday? Your opinion of a tribute band's singer? It's too detailed. Who would make up stuff like that? I didn't give you time to invent something, unconsciously or otherwise, so you have to be real. Unless of course my Wills is a master of improv, although I'm pretty sure I'd have noticed that before now."

She considers that, then smiles faintly. "Nicely done."

Xander shrugs. "I have my moments. Anyway, if you don't mind my company, I think I'll take you up on that offer of fitness training. Makes sense to collate our efforts."

"Okay," she brightens, glad of the topic change. "You want to meet up after school?"

"Sure thing." He stands up and reaches into his pocket for his wallet. "I'll settle the bill, see you outside."

She eyes him pointedly. "I can pay my own way y'know."

"Two coffees and dried birdseed," he chortles. "I'm pretty sure that's not going to break the Bank of Xander." _It'll be a close thing though_, he amends as he realises how few notes actually remain in his possession. Maybe they should've gone Dutch.

She rises from her seat with a small knowing smile. "Get used to that birdseed because you're going to be eating it yourself."

Xander's brief amusement is killed stone dead. "That was a joke, right?" he asks, pained at the very idea. Willow merely leaves the cafe, a picture of innocence. "Right?" Xander calls after her hopefully.


End file.
